


The Best Opportunity Yet

by Starshaker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starshaker/pseuds/Starshaker
Summary: Stiles is at a loose end. His thoughts are beginning to send him on a downward spiral and in the early hours of the morning he finds his way to Derek's apartment seeking advice and comfort. Derek offers him a new learning curve to distract him and in a very short space of time the pair settle into a closer relationship.





	The Best Opportunity Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KFlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KFlynn/gifts).



Stiles was torn from his spiralling thoughts as a door opened behind him. He craned his head back to see Derek frowning down at him.

“Are you trying to get chilblains?” Derek asked. “Or is there another reason for sitting in a cold concrete stairwell?”

“Waiting for something that goes bump in the night?” Stiles said and offered an unconvincing smile.

“I would have thought you did that often enough,” Derek said and leant against the doorframe as he looked down at Stiles.

Yeah well, werewolves are getting old y’know,”

“Did you want to come in without asking?” Derek asked.

“That’s a trick question. There’s no good answer to that,” Stiles objected and then averted his gaze back down the stairway, “I don’t know,” He sighed and wrung his hands together. His fingers were numb from the cold so perhaps he’d been sat there longer than he’d realised, “I just feel like I’m stuck,”

“That’s cause your ass will be glued to the concrete by now,” Derek said, “People don’t normally sit in stairwells for hours unless they’ve lost their keys, and I’d have figured you’d have picked the lock instead,” Stiles waited a moment to see if he’d carry on and then shrugged. Derek sighed and leant down to grip his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.As Stiles turned Derek gestured inside and grabbed Stiles’ bag with his other hand.

“Get in here Stiles,” Derek said.

 

Derek dropped his backpack on the end of the sofa and Stiles dropped down beside it. He’d made it in the door but he could help but keep glancing back towards it.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Stiles said but as he went to push himself back to his feet Derek dropped a hand to his shoulder and he stayed put. 

“You wouldn’t be the first to have an existential crisis in a stairwell,”

“That’s not it. Well it might be but that’s like the third or fourth likely option, all things considered,”

“So what is?” Derek asked. Stiles glanced up and wrung his hands together. When the words gagged in his throat he looked back to the floor. Derek waited a moment before nodding, 

“Ah, that. So what?” Derek asked, 

“How much do you listen to chemosignals in like a normal interaction?” Stiles asked, “You still do that right?”

“Not often. I don’t need to with people I trust,” Derek said with a half shrug, “You’re feeling guilty about something I might pick up?”

“I just... can’t do anything about all the people who suffered because I wasn’t strong enough. I, I know that,” Stiles hesitated and wring his hands together, “But what’s next? I feel like I’ve got my finger on a trigger.” He said and the solid lump of tension balled in his throat, “I did all that,” He buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers hard against his scalp. “And I want to feel powerful again,” He said, his voice muffled by his arm.

“I’ve heard that before. Kate. Alison. Peter.” Derek said.

“I figured you might know that feeling too,” Stiles said and glanced up across at Derek.

“Yes. And I hurt a lot of people too,” He said and nodded slowly, “It didn’t exactly end well,” 

“But then you start thinking that if you did it over you could keep them safe,” Stiles said and he could see the wince in the lines around Derek’s eyes

“What’s your plan? Put an ad in the Daily Beacon for another local Nogitsune wanting a fun time?” Derek asked incredulously, “Double page spread to get the attention of another passing Alpha pack?”

“That’s shitty man,” Stiles said.

“And your alternative?” Derek asked, 

“I don’t know,” Stiles said “Sometimes things will be going alright and then I think about the future and there’s just… nothing. I don’t know,” Stiles said, “I’m probably on some FBI database for the crap that went down at the hospital,” 

“I think everyone in Beacon Hills is on that list,” Derek said, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. There’s always South America. Europe maybe.”

“Wow, comforting.” Stiles said and stared down at his hands as he bunched them into fists and stretched them out in time with each breath. “You’ve been through this crap before. How long before I’m going to see the super obvious ladder out of the pit of self-deprecation?”

“You’ll make it through this, but there’s no easy fix,”

“Yeah, I figured.” Stiles scoffed.

“Wait here.” Derek stood and headed around the corner just out of sight. Stiles heard the floorboards, and then the heavy thunk which could have been a cupboard or something. He tried to work out what Derek might be searching out from the sounds of shuffling papers.

“My dad still looks like he’s waiting for the Nogitsune to show it’s face again,” Stiles muttered though he knew Derek could hear him, “Like he sees something I can’t when I look in the mirror. Deaton does it too. I mentioned it to Scott and…” Stiles trailed off and the apartment went quiet.

“Scott reassured you, but you didn’t need reassurance,” Derek said as he stepped back into view and Stiles’ eyes were drawn to the book in his hands, “If Deaton asks you’ve never seen this,” He said, “I told him it was lost in the fire,”

Stiles half expected the book’s title to be The Concise History of Everything. It could have passed for a medieval tome with its musty smell, yellowed pages and a spine thicker than the length of his thumb.

“You want to know what helps, I can’t tell you, but sometimes it helps to work on something, have a goal. This’ll take a lot of work,” Derek said, “If I know you at all, this will be something you’ll hyperfocus on,”

“That’s not always a good thing,” Stiles said and reached out for the book in Derek’s hands. 

“How many healthy coping methods do you think I have?” Derek asked as he let Stiles take its full weight. Stiles snorted and traced the worn embossed cover with his fingertips. They came away with a layer of dust.

“Should you be giving me this?” Stiles asked. 

“Emissary magic is best performed by someone who seeks their peak mental, physical and psychological well being,” Derek tapped a finger on the top of the book. “The most powerful Emissary, in the Hale pack history wrote this book,”

“I’m not an Emissary,” Stiles said.

“Being an Emissary isn’t innate. It’s a career path like any other, obviously in some cases a second career is necessary,” Derek explained, “If this was something you’d want to pursue, I’d help you,”

“You’re not an alpha, you don’t need an emissary,” Stiles said.

“No,” Derek said and shrugged. 

“Then you want me to do this for Scott?” 

“I think you should do this because you’ve got the skills for it. If you all go your separate ways for college or after that, I still think you’d do well out of this,”

“I haven’t seen many Emissary Wanted adverts on any job sites,” Stiles said.

“The more you learn the more you see,” Derek said and waved towards the book in Stiles’ lap, “And you wanted something for right now, I only know what helped me. And it was a long process,” 

“I don’t know if I can sign up for this,” Stiles set the book on the coffee table but couldn’t bring himself to let go despite himself.

“This isn’t an opportunity that passes you by. It’ll still be here if you want it,” Derek said.

“And in the meantime?” Stiles asked as he pulled back and leant into the corner of the sofa. Derek shrugged.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten recently?” Derek asked, “I have some soup I can heat up,” He pushed up off the sofa and headed towards the kitchenette. “Does your Dad know you’re here or…?”

“He may think I spend a lot more time with Scott, than I actually do at the moment,” Stiles said, “I just get that tired look of, you probably know” He said and felt a lump in his throat. When Derek looked back at him he ducked his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah.” He said and waved hand in Derek’s direction. “I uh, might have skipped the last couple of meals,”

“And your meds?” Derek asked

“Which ones?” Stiles asked and rolled his eyes, “No I’ve definitely taken all of them exactly when I’ve been supposed to,” Stiles said, “Between the alarms on my phone, my Dad’s phone and the fear that starts creeping up on me when I don’t take them, I think I’m covered on that front,”

“Good,” Derek said and nodded. Stiles glanced up when Derek was concentrating on something over the kitchen counter. A quiet buzzing caught his attention and he pushed himself up from the sofa and cross to the other side of the kitchenette counter. 

“You have an electric tin opener?” He said as he leant against the counter and peered at the counter. 

“I bought it for Isaac. He used to practice his control whilst cooking. He’d stick a claw through a can instead of opening it properly,”Derek said as the can opener completed its circuit and Derek lifted off the lid cleanly.

“Werewolf can, Werewolf do,” Stiles said. He grinned when Derek shot him a deadpan look.

“There was always a lot of mess,” He said.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never…” Stiles swiped a finger through the air and grinned. Derek’s unimpressed look continued. “Liar,” Stiles teased.

Derek shook his head. He took down two glasses from the shelf and rinsed them out before filling them with water. He set one down in front of Stiles.

“You said an Emissary had to be in peak physical and mental health,” Stiles said. He reached for the glass and tapped his fingernails down the side “Would that even work for me?”

“I said it helped,” Derek said, “But do you see Deaton lifting?”

“I want to be stronger. Where would you start?” Stiles asked. “Smarts aren’t always enough.”

“Set a goal,” Derek said.

“Vague,” Stiles said and reached out to run his finger through a splash of soup on the counter

“For a goal, pick someone you want to beat,” Derek added as he drained a second tin of soup into the pan. “To get there find someone you want to work alongside. I take it you don’t want to train with Scott,”

Stiles thought for a minute.

“You said you’d help...” He started

“Of course,” Derek said and looked up with a small smile.

“You’ve got the right moral compass for a pack emissary,” Peter interjected. Stiles startled and turned on the spot, “Unwaveringly loyal. Pack first. Criminal if needs be,” Peter’s gaze lingered on the book on the coffee table as Stiles shot Derek a look.

“And when did you get here?”

“Only just,” Derek said, “ 

“Derek has this habit he picked up from some therapist or other… leaves his door unlocked regardless,” Peter said as he perused through the pages of the book.

“Pack’s always welcome, and I can hear you all coming up the stairs,” Derek said and circled the counter to Stiles’ side when he leant back and crossed his arms as he faced Peter, “Did you want something?” He asked.

“Company as it happens,” Peter said as he dropped onto the sofa and lounged back, his arms stretched along the back of the cushions.

“I want to beat _him_. That’s my goal,” Stiles said determinedly and Derek shot him a cautioning look.

“You’re sure?” he asked. 

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” Peter said but neither Derek or Stiles looked away from one another. Derek narrowed his eyes slightly in question and Stiles held his gaze steady. The air of a smile pulled at the corner of Derek’s lips.

“You probably shouldn’t have told him,” He said and turned back towards the kitchen to check on the soup in the pan.

...

“When was the deadline for those summer internships you mentioned last month?” His Dad asked as he set his empty dinner plate on the side table. 

“I got a couple of them in on time, a couple of others I missed but I might get in if they accept late submissions,” Stiles shrugged. His own plate was long since abandoned.

“Or that’s another opportunity gone,” His dad said.

“Damn, that’s like the 5th this week,” Stiles said and leant back on the chair and , “I’ve still got time to fill in some more, and I was actually thinking of spending more time with Derek over the summer,” Stiles said and waited a moment to see if his Dad was going to comment. 

“It’s kind of like a research opportunity,” He started when no reply came, “It’s going to give me something to work on, and I’m going to be training with Derek too. He’s been through the same sort of stuff so he knows what works and he gets it, y’know,” By the time he shot another look up at his Dad he was relieved at the expression he found there.

“That’s… almost a comforting thought,” His Dad said wistfully. “I’m going to regret asking this but how are Scott and Derek and, the supernatural stuff?” He reached for his drink as Stiles tried to balance the truth with what he hoped his Dad wanted to hear.

“It’s actually okay. I’m not sure Scott has the whole ‘leading a pack’ thing down yet but..it’s okay. Derek’s been sorting through his family’s vault under the school,”

“The what under the what?” His Dad asked. The glass in his hand was frozen halfway from the table. 

“His family have a vault under the school. With a very surreal entrance activated by sticking their claws in the school sign,” Stiles said and gestured a claw with his hand

“I’m not going to get any more reports of him hanging around the school, am I?” His Dad asked with an amused look, only slightly hiding his concern

“No, he does it at night,” Stiles said. He smirked as he Dad let out a long sigh.

“I was right. I regret asking,” His Dad said as he shook his head, “Just...You’re not likely to be releasing any demons or opening a void in space time something-or-other?”

“That’s not in the plan, but everyone who knew for certain what all these things are is dead,” Stiles said and shrugged one shoulder.

“I can’t stop you, but I can ask that you at least try to be careful, can’t I?” He asked. He reached out a hand to pat Stiles’ knee.

“Always careful,” Stiles said and nodded, “Besides Derek’ll be there. You trust Derek right?”

“I trust Derek, that doesn’t mean that you can’t both get in over your head,” His Dad said and pulled away.

\--

As his dashboard clock clicked over to 10:00AM and Stiles jumped out of the jeep and took a look straight up to where he could see the very top edge of Derek’s window. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door more times than was strictly necessary.

Derek opened the door and pressed a finger to his lips and motioned to his ear phones and mouthed ‘on a call’. Stiles cocked his head to one side and frowned. Derek waved him over to the book on the desk. And held up his open hand and mouthed ‘five minutes’.

“Yeah, I got all that. I just don’t fully understand how Kim thinks that if it takes him two years to write a book it’ll only take me three weeks to translate,”

Stiles couldn’t help but listen in to Derek’s side of the conversation. He was grateful Peter didn’t seem to be present. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think that would overrun like it did,”

“Work?” Stiles asked and was met with a blank look from Derek, “Congrats, since when?”

“I’ve been a freelance translator for four years,” Derek said. He ducked his head and kept his eyes on his hands and Stiles almost believed he saw a proud smile pull at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Anything ancient and cursed?” Stiles asked

“Really?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged.

“No,” Derek said and shook his head, “Spanish, Russian, Portuguese, French, I know enough Japanese for anything up to intermediate,” He listed them off on his fingers as he spoke, “Oh and a little Welsh,”

“Welsh?” Stiles asked

“A roommate of Laura’s and mine,” Derek said, “Their parents wrote to them in Welsh and they used to pin the letters to the fridge.

“So what was that one about?” Stiles asked waving to the phone and desk across the room, “Fiction or non-fiction?”

“Both,” Derek said and then waved his flat hand, “ ...mostly fiction,”

“Mostly?” Stiles asked and frowned.

“The author maintains he has had an extraterrestrial encounter,” Derek said and half shrugged, “As fiction goes it’s pretty good. Non-fiction, not so much, I’ll get you a copy when i’m done,”

“Which I’ll get to when I’m done with this,” Stiles hefted the book from the table and set it in his lap. He glanced up at Derek, “Did you have any other plans for today?”

“I knew you were coming, I’ve got some work to do too, ideally I should be spending four to six hours on translations a day. You want to work around that?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, that works,” Stiles said and nodded eagerly. “You work. I’ll read. Break for lunch and review?” Stiles suggested

“Ready when you are,” Derek said. As small smile lifted his expression as he looked up at Stiles.

 

Stiles barely noticed time passing as he read. The book mixed magical theory with examples of spells that mostly seemed well beyond the realms of his foreseeable ability. He spent ten minutes trying to understand a diagram that folded out to cover three pages that only looked to explain how to light a fire. That was, the text on the page only explained how to light a fire, by way of rubbing two sticks together over a pile of kindling.

He kept one hand on that page as he flicked back a few pages to a series of sketched hand gestures and snorted for the second time. The book included the magical way to flip someone off, and they’d feel innately inclined to leave. He’d have folded down the corner of the page of that one if he wasn’t suspicious that the book would retaliate for the impoliteness. He ran his finger down the page to the description of a hand gesture for creating fire. He glanced between the two sets of notes. There weren’t any additional ingredients needed and theoretically the flame would appear in the palm of his hand.

He twisted his hand in the way the book depicted and imagined a flame just above his hand.

Nothing.

He glanced up and silently asked himself what Derek would suggest. Imagining a flame wasn’t the same as believing he could conjure a flame. He had to believe there’d be the shape, colour; fire was hot and dangerous, it’s heat sharp and painful. A sharp pain shot across his hand and he yelped at a pain over the side of his palm and an orange flame curled up into a ping-pong sized ball of fire which hung in the air. His wafted his hand through it and the fire dissipated and burnt out but the residual pain stung his hand. When the flame had vanished he looked at his hand to see a gash that ran from his palm around to the back of his hand.

“Damn it,” He cradled his hand to his chest and scowled down at the book.

“I’d best study my first aid for humans if you’re going to start practicing,” Derek said and Stiles looked up to see he was watching with a wary expression.

“Don’t bluff with me, I know you have a first aid box under your kitchen sink,” Stiles said as he pressed against the cut. “And what was I supposed to do? Just study theory all summer. Who are you, Umbridge?”

“I forget sometimes how quickly you pick things up,” Derek said and pushed himself up from his desk, “And in fairness I don’t know a lot of first aid for banshees or hellhounds either,” He called from the kitchen.

“Ice, heat, Tylenol usually work,” Stiles listed off with the fingers of his right hand, “Maybe a bandage,” He waved his hand, “If you’ve got one,” Derek waved the green first aid box in the air and rounded the corner of the kitchen counter.

Derek knelt in front of Stiles and pulled Stiles’ hand towards him with one hand and with the other reached for the antiseptic. He squeezed the tube with one hand directly onto Stiles’ cut.

“I didn’t think there was a spell in there for more convenient bloodletting,” Derek said as he set the antiseptic down and reached for a plaster. 

“Funny.” Stiles said. He suppressed a wince as Derek pressed the plaster to the side of Stiles’ hand. 

“You going to eat something now?” Derek asked.

“What?”

“I made that for you over an hour ago,” He nodded back to the kitchen counter where a sandwich sat on a plate.

“You could have said something.” Stiles said as he pressed the plaster against his hand. Derek levelled him with a look that meant he clearly had.

“Maybe I was too deep in thought,” Stiles said incredulously, but he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through when Derek rolled his eyes.

“Maybe.” Derek said under his breath. He kept his eyes on the first aid box in his hands as he headed back towards the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s the translation going?” Stiles asked as he pushed himself up from the sofa and crossed the room. “Has he been probed yet?” Stiles asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“He’s escaped some sort of bindings made of the organic material of his cellmate,” Derek said. He pushed the first aid box back onto the shelf under the sink and turned back to face Stiles.“His favourite turn of phrase seems to be describing things as cool, tacky and with hugging tentacles,” Derek stepped up to the other side of the counter to Stiles and braced himself against it. “With claws and barbs instead of suckers,”

“What’s the guy got against hugs?” Stiles asked with mock offense, “And haven’t _we_ run into that too?”

“Jackson?” Derek asked and cocked his head head to one side

“I was thinking Peter,” Stiles said. Derek shrugged . 

“I don’t think Peter does hugs,” 

“That might explain a lot,” Stiles aid and gestured with the remains of the sandwich in his hand, “Maybe you need a hug too?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Derek said and turned on the spot and returned to his desk. Stiles watched him for a minute or so before he shoved the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, rinsed his plate and set it on the draining board.

 

An hour and a half later Stiles was once again absorbed in the text when his phone alarm went off He stretched his arms up and felt his shoulders and back crack.

He sighed as he stretched out the kinks and looked up when he saw Derek watching him.

“What?”

“It’s rare I see you sit so still for so long,” Derek said

“Been practicing.” Stiles said, “No I haven’t, I get…” his words trailed off and he ran a hand back through his hair before glancing back up at Derek.

“Hyperfocused,” Derek said. He nodded towards Stiles, “I’ve seen you research before,”

“Yeah. But this is like learning a subject from scratch. The basics would probably look simple enough if there was any reference to them but…Oh man. This is not flawless prose,” Stiles trailed a hand down the page before he shut the book satisfying thud. “How close to done for the day are you?”

“Pretty much there. You want to try some physical training? Burn off the frustration?”

“Sure,” Stiles nodded and stretched out his arms in front of himself again as he stood, “How much of this sort of thing do you know?”

“The basics. No practical experience but I’ve seen enough.” Derek said. His laptop was already shut but he rearranged some of the books and papers before he got up. “Every hit you get in this afternoon, you can ask a question,”

“Do you even what me to learn this stuff?”

“If you can multitask you can ask the questions as we practice,” Derek relented.

“If I can multi-task? Do you know who you’re talking to?” Stiles answered with a grin

 

They drove out to the preserve and Stiles spent the whole journey attempting to explain what he’d read so far. Derek added his insights whenever Stiles slowed to catch a breathe and Stiles in turn asked more open ended questions. When Derek talked about his family he smiled, and Stiles didn’t catch all of the details as he started to piece together what Derek’s life was like before he returned to Beacon hills

“Stiles?” Derek said and Stiles realised he’d been staring at Derek without taking anything in, “I was thinking about it and I think you’ll need to find your anchor too,” 

“Because magic corrupts, makes people power mad?” Stiles offered.

“From what I’ve seen,” Derek said and half shrugged, “I don’t want to second guess giving you that book but...”

“No, I get that. Definitely a valid concern,” Stiles said “But I’m not Scott. I’m not infatuated with anyone,”

“Not Lydia then?” Derek asked, an edge of surprise in his voice.

“I don’t think so,” Stiles said. He shivered involuntarily as his mind drifted back to the ice bath and the nogitsune, “I mean she’d definitely hit me upside the head if I started to lose it but I don’t think she’d be my anchor,”

“It doesn’t have to be a person. Sometimes it’s better when it’s not,” Derek suggested.

“I’ll figure it out,” Stiles said and Derek glanced away from the road with an insistent look, “Sooner rather than later, I get it.” Stiles said and waved a hand in Derek’s direction. Derek hummed under his breath but his attention refocused on the road ahead.

The conversation between them stalled for all of thirty long seconds before Derek turned into the verge and slowed to a stop. “Why’re we out here?”

“Most enemies won’t go up against you at the gym,” Derek said as he turned off the car and undid his belt, “And there’s a place up here that helps me center myself after concentrating on translations all day,” 

“I don’t do so well at centering myself,” Stiles said and gestured to his head, “My brain works too fast,”

“This isn’t for your benefit. I needed to get out of the flat,” Derek said as he stepped from the car and waited for Stiles to do the same.

“It’s been raining all morning,” Stiles said as shut the door and circled the car

“Then you won’t set fire to much if you try those spells again,” Derek said, “Besides, the ground will be softer to land on. I don’t own any crash mats.”

 

Stiles felt like he was going up against Neo in the Matrix. Every hit he tried to get in was blocked. Derek’s hand clamped around his wrist or upper arm when any movement got within a foot of him.

“Are you doing this to try and prove something? Cause I’ve got to tell you, this is more than a little disheartening,”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to be thinking about?” Stiles snapped and yanked his arm from Derek’s grip.

“Outsmart me,” Derek said as he took a step back out of Stiles’ space, “That’s what you’re good at,”

“Outsmart someone with super reflexes. Right.”

“You’ve done it before.” Derek said and an amused smile pulled at his expression, “Take a break, let me know when you’re ready,”

“Are you just throwing me in at the deep end to put me off? Let’s give Stiles a book that’s written by Merlin and make him fight a werewolf, that’ll put him off,” Stiles snapped, “Well let me tell you buddy, it’s not going to work,” He waved a finger in Derek’s direction and Derek held up his hands in surrender.

“I’m not trying to put you off,” Derek said, “Get angry. There’s no-one here to judge you,”

“Angry? Doesn’t anger mean you stop thinking clearly?” Stiles asked but his mind was already tripping over memories fuelling just that.

“Get angry. Hold it in your gut and your hands not your head,” Derek said and took a step towards Stiles and levelled him with a look, “Focus it on me, and think about what you want to do,” Derek closed the gap between them and set his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “If I was attacking you and I’d already gotten this close. What could you possibly do?”

Stiles looked up, along Derek’s arms and to his face. Derek’s eyes flashed blue and Stiles felt a flash of power deep in his gut where. He’d felt something similar before but now it felt malleable. He pushed his arms up inside Derek’s grip and shoved him back hard, hard enough that Derek flew backwards. He hit the bracken. Stiles took a quick step backwards before he really realised what had happened. 

“Oh crap,” He said and scrambled over to Derek’s side “Derek?” He dropped to his knees beside him. He pressed one hand to Derek’s chest and scanned Derek’s face. He felt one of Derek’s hands close around his own over Derek’s chest.

“Would you normally check your attacker was still breathing?” Derek said through short breaths.

“Did you know I could do that?” Stiles asked as he shifted back on his heels. 

“If anyone could it’d be you,” Derek started and he winced as he went to shrug. He groaned as he tried to push himself up and Stiles steadied him as he sat up. 

“How’s your hand?” Derek asked. His grip loosened and he turned Stiles’ hand in his own. 

“You’re probably dislocated a couple of ribs or something and you’re worried about my hand,” Stiles said with a huff but he settled down in the dirt next to Derek as he resigned his hand to inspection. Their shoulders pressed together and he could feel the movement of Derek’s shorter breaths.

“I’m proud of you,” Derek said as he peeled the plaster back to reveal the cut which had begun to bleed again. Derek pulled a new plaster from his back pocket and tore into the paper casing. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be terrified. I’m an unstoppable force y’know,” Stiles said. Derek pressed the new plaster to the side of Stiles’ hand and turned his head. They were close. Too close. Close enough that Stiles was near certain that Derek’ could feel the curl in his gut that ninety percent nerves and ten percent of something he regularly told himself not to think about.

“That’s mostly true,” Derek said 

“Which part?”

“You’re an unstoppable force,” Derek said and Stiles saw Derek’s eye flick down to his own lips, “and you do scare me. But I’m not going anywhere,” Derek’s eyes came back to meet his.

“So you’re saying that you’re an immovable object?” Stiles asked. Derek shut his eyes as he shook his head.

“Don’t turn it into a line,” Derek said with a sigh.

“Don’t think I need to.” Stiles said, “But since you want to hear it so much,” He was cut off as Derek closed the gap between them and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was gentle and all too brief for Stiles’ liking and his was about to say so when he opened his eyes to Derek pulling back. His heart was racing and his couldn't have pushed down the grin if he tried but Derek’s attention was on the ground around them. 

A five foot circle around them was full of flowers and fungi of a hundred different colours. All blooming in the space of the seconds that Stiles had shut his eyes. He glanced back at Derek who was smiling in return. 

“I think we’ve found your spark,” Derek said.

“I’m not in control of this,” Stiles said and waved to the mini jungle around them.

“They we’d best practice some more,” Derek said as he pushed himself up to his feet and turned back to offer his hand to pull Stiles’ back to his feet too. 

\--

Stiles was exhausted and as he curled up on the sofa, the book in his lap, he could feel his eyes drooping shut despite the promise of dinner. He must have shut his eyes for longer than he realised when he felt a light even weight draped over his shoulders. He blinked up to see Derek pulling a blanket around him.

“I’ll wake you up before dinner’s ready,” Derek said, “We’re going to have to make sure we don’t overdo it next time. It’s okay to call it quits for the day,” He rested a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Come on man, _you’ve_ called me skinny and defenseless before,” Stiles said “I can’t be doing too much and too little at the same time,” He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and squinted up at Derek.

“You can take on too much too soon and not enough in the long run. You’re still a human in a supernatural world,” Derek said, “But today might have been on me,”

“When this is over you’ll be begging me to take it easy on you,” Stiles said but he couldn’t stifle the yawn, “Just see if I do then, asshole,”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Derek said. He pulled away and returned to his work but between the warmth of the blanket and the the residual feel of Derek’s hand on his shoulder Stiles felt himself drifting back to sleep in minutes. 


End file.
